


soulmark symbols and boiled carrots

by trixicinkflair



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 4-7-8, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Blood, Breathing Patterns, Emotions, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, First Aid, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay, Happy Ending, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Hyperventilating, Insecurities, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kissing, Logan has Feelings™, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Pining, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Soulmarks, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Tags Contain Spoilers, The Imagination, Unconsciousness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixicinkflair/pseuds/trixicinkflair
Summary: -Roman glanced over at him curiously. "Wait, what about your soulmark? What is it?"”I don’t have one,” Virgil blurted, the lie popping out before he could think of a better one. “That’s...I don’t like talking about it. That’s all.”-
Relationships: Character!Thomas/Nico Flores, LAMP/CALM
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in canonverse, but not canon compliant. it's a soulmate AU, except they're still thomas's sides. if that makes any sense at all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want to help wash dishes, there isn't much left to do. You've been staring at the wall for almost ten minutes. Patton said not to smack you or anything. And I agree, I'm not much in the mood to get eviscerated, and you have a steak knife."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some prinxiety fluff (kind of?) while i get it worked out in my head where i want this fic to go. thanks for reading!!
> 
> ~ink

"Virgil? You okay?"

Virgil jolted at the sound of his name, focusing back in on the dinner table. Roman was staring at him over the top of the dirty dishes, dark eyes concerned and just a bit worried. "Hmm?"

"I asked if you were okay," Roman repeated.

"Yeah, I, uh...." Virgil glanced around, noting the distinct lack of anyone else left in the room. "Sorry, I didn't know dinner was over. I'll....do you want any help?"

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want to help wash dishes, there isn't much left to do. You've been staring at the wall for almost ten minutes. Patton said not to smack you or anything. And I agree, I'm not much in the mood to get eviscerated, and you have a steak knife."

It was clearly a joke, but bile rose in the back of his throat at the thought of harming any one of his soulmates. He tried to appear unbothered, but something must have showed on his face, because the creative facet backed off unexpectedly. "Hey, I'm just kidding. Wanna help me tackle these dishes?" he asked.

Virgil accepted, grabbing some off the plates and carrying them to the sink, already filled with soapy hot water. "What time is it?" he asked abruptly. "Are the others in bed?"

"It's about..." Roman checked his watch. "It's 9:50, so Logan is probably still working and Patton will be down in a little to say goodnight. He had something to finish, but we ate dinner late tonight," he explained absently, and Virgil's chest ached at the easy familiarity between them, of the rhythm they all held, knowing each other on such a level, so effortlessly and intimately.

"Oh," he said, returning his gaze to the sinkful of water and scrubbing at the plate he was holding. His entire arm jerked involuntarily as his soulmarks tingled. "My hand slipped," he muttered in response to Roman's glance. He lowered his voice, grumbling to himself. "Stupid Soulmark."

Roman glanced over at him curiously. "Wait, what about your Soulmark? What is it?"

Virgil shrugged, looking away abruptly. "You don't just ask about that, Roman, what the hell,” he snapped. That shut Roman up instantly, and they went back to work on the dishes, Roman getting out towels to lie clean dishes on to dry and bringing over a pan from the stove to be washed.

"I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Roman shook his head, bot meeting his eyes. “No. I was out of line. You’re right, it’s an intimate thing and I-"

"I don’t have one,” Virgil blurted, the lie popping out before he could think of a better one. “That’s...I don’t like talking about it. That’s all.”

Roman didn’t have anything to say to that, apparently. His eyes looked sad when he turned back around, but he just rubbed Virgil's left shoulder absently (jerking back like he'd touched a hot stove when Virgil flinched at the touch) and laid out a couple pans to dry.

Virgil reached for the faucet to rinse a spatula, but Roman beat him to it. The other slipped in beside him and started rinsing, his hand brushing Virgil's every so often as he handed off plates to be rinsed and set on the drying sheet.

"Movie night tomorrow still on?" he asked, breaking the suddenly tense silence. "I think Patton is dragging out some of the old VHS tapes in the basement tomorrow afternoon, and then we're going to watch Psycho."

Virgil pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. "Yeah, I'll be there," he said.

Roman clapped his hands together. "Excellent. Logan will be in charge of popcorn this time, so it should be better than last time. I burned it terribly, I fear I shall never master the art of making popcorn properly," Roman lamented dramatically, leaning against Virgil and putting a hand to his forehead.

"How tragic," Virgil said flatly, flicking some soapy water onto the Side's forehead.

Roman spluttered in protest. "Virgil, how could you! Such betrayal, attacking me while I am vulnerable!"

Virgil's heart squeezed at the mention of an attack, and he pulled away, trying to hide how his stomach had tied itself into a knot. "Sorry." He tried to make it sound more sarcastic, or at least a bit more teasing, but his voice shook, completely blowing his pathetic attempt at a cover.

Roman was instantly at his side. "Virgil, it was a joke. Nothing more. Are you alright?"

 _Fuck it,_ Virgil thought. "I don't...like jokes about...any of you getting hurt. It just...I'm supposed to be able to protect you lot and Thomas, it's literally my job, and even thinking about you guys in pain, I-"

A gentle touch on his shoulder made his head snap up, and he nervously met Roman's melted-chocolate eyes. "Virgil," Roman said quietly, and Virgil braced himself. "Thank you."

_Wait, what?_

"Thank you for telling me that," he clarified. "I'll endeavor to stop making those kinds of jokes." Virgil automatically started to protest, but Roman hushed him with a finger to his lips, the other hand cupping his cheek. "I don't mind stopping a joke, hot topic. I'd rather do that than hurt you, however unintentionally, with callous humour."

"Aww, you still think I'm hot," Virgil teased. It was the only coherent thought through the rest of his brain screaming.

Roman smiled, setting the last cup on the drying sheet. "Of course I do." He gently bopped Virgil on the end of the nose, then turned and strode out of the room, disappearing up the stairs and down the hallway leading to his bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Virgil stood frozen in the kitchen for a total of thirty nine seconds (some obscure bit of his brain counted) before he forced his limbs to move and hurried to his room, locking the door behind him and screaming into a pillow. Thank the stars for mindscape magic and soundproofed rooms. He sat up, clutching the pillow to his chest. "He meant it as a friend," he hissed at himself. "You look like Thomas, and you look like Roman, and Roman was just complimenting you because if he didn't, it wouldn't make any sense. We all have the same face."

His spirits sunk the longer the words came tumbling out. There was an ache deep in his chest now, and his eyes burned with unshed tears.

Virgil curled up on the bed again, tugging a blanket over himself and closing his eyes. "You mean nothing to them. Don't get your hopes up over a lie. And besides, it's not like YOU like them anyways either."

"I thought I was supposed to be the liar, Virgil," Janus's smooth voice interjected. "Although I suppose you yourself said it: you aren't exactly a beacon of truth."

"Get out," Virgil snapped, raising his tearstained face to glare at his old friend. "What are you doing here?"

"As hard as it may be for you to grasp this, I care about you."

Virgil narrowed his eyes, and glanced down. One of Janus's gloves was off, held loosely in one of his other hands. He blinked in shock. "What?"

Janus held up the glove and shook it gently. "I. Care. About. You," he repeated, slower, but Virgil didn't get the sense that was he was trying to be condescending.

He sighed, flopping back onto the bed. "Okay, fine. Cool. That doesn't explain what you're doing in my room."

Janus sighed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "I can feel your lies from across the mindscape, Virgil. Are you aware of how annoying it is to be able to feel someone lying?"

Virgil shook his head, and Janus snorted. "It tickles the back of my throat and burns my tongue. So, yes, I am here because I would appreciate it if you would stop lying to yourself."

"Which lie are we talking about here?"

Janus's gaze flickered to the wall, then back to Virgil. "There is nothing wrong with loving them," he said softly. "They have been kind to you, and you have grown much closer than I think even you realize."

Virgil scowled. "I don't love them," he growled.

Janus winced, hand jerking up in an aborted movement towards his neck. "Virgil. Please."

He tried desperately to blink away the tears he knew were welling up in his eyes, and instead just rolled over. "They'd never feel the same no matter how much I want them to," he said. "So just leave me alone."

"Virgil...."

"Leave!"

There was silence for a long moment, then a whoosh as Janus sunk out.


End file.
